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Fingers

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔪𝔞𝔤𝔦𝔠𝔞𝔩 𝔣𝔦𝔫𝔤'𝔯𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔡𝔞𝔯𝔨
𝔰𝔬 𝔯𝔞𝔯𝔢 ℑ 𝔣𝔢𝔢𝔩𝔢𝔱𝔥 𝔱𝔥𝔶 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢
𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔢𝔱𝔥 𝔞 𝔭𝔬𝔢𝔱'𝔰 𝔮𝔲𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤
𝔟𝔩𝔢𝔢𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔦𝔫𝔨 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔰
𝔯𝔢𝔠𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔬𝔫 𝔫𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱'𝔰 𝔬𝔱𝔱𝔬𝔪𝔞𝔫
𝔱𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔯𝔦𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔰
𝔬𝔣 𝔰𝔲𝔫𝔰𝔢𝔱𝔰 𝔞𝔱 𝔡𝔲𝔰𝔨
𝔟𝔢𝔣'𝔯𝔢 𝔡𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔥 𝔠𝔩𝔬𝔰𝔢𝔱𝔥 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔢𝔶𝔢𝔰
𝔟𝔢𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔳𝔢𝔦𝔩 𝔬𝔣 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢
adagio
Written by adagio
Published
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likes 4 reading list entries 2
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AspergerPoet56 Bluevelvete
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